


Looking Glass

by De Orakle (Delphi)



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama, Established Relationship, Identity Issues, Law Enforcement, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-01-01
Updated: 1999-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-10 02:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/94100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphi/pseuds/De%20Orakle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Appearances can be deceiving, and Josiah has always preferred it that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Exact date of publication unknown.

They fucked in front of his mirror, once.

Josiah doesn't make a habit of using that word for what he and Ezra do, but no other euphemism can convey the suddenness, the base ferocity of the act. No other word feels like their breath fogging up the cool glass.

He can't remember exactly where they had been—somewhere downtown with a patio where they had watched the hazy clouds gather. By the time they'd pulled up to his building, the rain was coming down so hard he could barely see the fading painted yellow lines and had to guess at his space. The downpour sounded like it would crack the windshield, like it would dent the ground. Ezra wanted to wait out the storm in the dry sanctuary of the car, promising to make it worth his while, but Josiah balked at the close quarters and offered Cabernet and chocolate chip ice cream until Ezra agreed to make a run for it.

Across the slippery pavement, Josiah only laughed while Ezra complained vehemently about the disastrous effect of rain on a silk tie. He fumbled at the door, the humidity having swelled the lock so that he had to jam the key in, coupled with a curse. Ezra pressed close to him, trying to find some shelter from the torrent—in vain since they both were, by that point, completely soaked. But it felt nice. A harsh crackle like rippling sheet metal tore up the deathly-still yellow sky, and he jarred the door open with his shoulder before the deep rumble of thunder followed on the lightning's heels. He remembers Ezra shivering against him at the shock of the sudden air-conditioned blast of the lobby.

While leaving ridiculously large rainwater puddles in the elevator, Ezra tugged sullenly on his drenched clothing, using the largest amounts of words possible to convey his displeasure with his dampened state. Attempts to placate him were met with resentful glares, and Josiah laughed again and said he looked like a drowned cat.

Sloshing into his apartment, still dripping, they suddenly froze, then slumped in defeat when the lights brightened, flickered, then blacked out. They made a beeline, best they could in the unnatural afternoon darkness, towards the bathroom for towels, Ezra shedding his soaked shirt along the way.

Later, Josiah was never quite sure what it was that set him off. He watched Ezra, who was fastidiously shaking out his shirt before hanging it up, having no idea how absolutely gorgeous he looked, all wet and dripping in the thick of the shadows, rubbing a towel over skin goosefleshed even in the stifling heat. Josiah ignored his own clothing weighing on him, and the itchiness of his drying slacks sticking to his legs. He just watched, intently, a small smile playing about his lips. Sensing the scrutiny in that way of his, Ezra looked up, startled, with a charming look of confusion on his face.

And before he had even thought of moving, Josiah ripped the towel from Ezra's hands and was kissing him hard and deep. His mouth moved desperately, pushing, pushing until Ezra's head was tilted back like a submissive wolf showing throat. The parallel was too strong in his mind to resist, and he took a sharp nip, as much to hear the cutting gasp from Ezra as to feel the flesh give so sweetly beneath his teeth. He drew back, allowing them both a much-needed breath, and Ezra's eyes were so dark in the half-light as he parted his lips, dropped his gaze, and sighed the smallest of sighs.

Ezra for once didn't say a word. He just drew Josiah closer, wrapping his arms around him, clasping his hands at the small of his back. Eyes closing, Ezra took a backward step to lean against the vanity, tilting his head back so slightly. Invitation. Permission. Josiah felt as if the air around him was shivering violently, the storm-charged stillness dancing over his skin, playing up with static as the room rumbled in sympathy to the rolling thunder outside. His muscles trembled with suppressed energy—something more than lust, more than passion. He felt as if he needed to tear Ezra apart and then soothe all the pieces back together.

He remembers making this..._noise_ in the back of his throat. Kissing Ezra harder and harder, soft warm flesh and hard teeth, tasting blood. Ezra's hands slipped skillfully under his shirt—around, cool on his wet stomach, uncertainly unbuttoning. His clothing was peeled back from his skin, and he shivered when his damp skin met the air, warmed only by Ezra's gently clenching hands. He shivered again as cool water drops dripped from his hair onto his bare shoulders, and wondered if Ezra was feeling the same. Flash. Again the lightning flared, and they both jumped just a little when the angry thunder answered so quickly.

And he grabbed Ezra tightly by the arms, roughly turning him around—too roughly. But Ezra still didn't a word, just braced his hands on the vanity, bent forward, and spread his legs. Wet. Rain in his mouth as he dropped to his knees, his lips on Ezra's back. It was like tasting him after a shower, but sharper, with the smell of ozone, the taste of lightning. He reached around, his hands inexplicably shaking as he hurriedly slid metal and leather through Ezra's belt loops. Something sharp and breaking went through him when Ezra thrust up into his hand: not anger, but a fierce possessiveness, like the delicate snap before his temper was lost. He gave a strong tug to Ezra's pants, then grasped his bare hips tightly. Ezra held still; his skin held a chill.

Biting, his lips moving wildly, Josiah held Ezra fast, trailing kisses down past the hollow of his back. Down further, tasting rainwater and sweat. He had Ezra squirming, breathing raggedly, legs shaking. He had Ezra whimpering, begging without words. And then, slick, standing, arms in a tight chest lock, he had Ezra hard.

Warm and smooth, thrusting too roughly, he opened his eyes to see faces he didn't recognize in the dark mirror before him. His own skin was impossibly flushed, his jaw clenched as if in pain, his lips moving slightly with the guttural sounds he was uttering. His eyes fairly glittered in the shadow image. Back and forth with his thrusts, he tore his gaze away and focused on Ezra's reflection, and found it suddenly hard to breathe.

Hair plastered to his forehead, mouth parted, Ezra was watching himself with a disturbing intensity. Josiah knew it wasn't vanity; Ezra was surprisingly uncomfortable being stared at naked. He gazed his fill, and if Ezra's eyes had held just a touch more fear than unreadable wonder, he still doesn't know if he would have been able to stop himself.

His hand clutched blindly lower, taking Ezra into his grip, hot and hard, but far too still. Ezra's hips reacted in time with his own, but of his own volition he only braced himself. Breath, fogged mirror. And no matter how hard Josiah pushed inside him, no matter how firmly he moved his fisted hand over Ezra's cock, Ezra didn't blink. He just stared at himself, open-mouthed, like Josiah wasn't even there. Deeper, deeper, rhythmic, Josiah almost hurt from the pure physical sensation of it, lost in a clash of red. He untangled the arm wrapped around Ezra's chest, and before he had any idea of what he was doing, he'd grabbed Ezra's chin, roughly forcing his head back until their gazes were locked in their reflection.

Staring into Ezra's eyes was like watching a building burn to the ground. He dimly worried at how tightly his hand gripped Ezra's throat—at how motionless, how quiet Ezra was. But he was so close to coming, and his hips moved almost violently, and some sick part of him was pleased at how still Ezra was, like Ezra's body knew it belonged to him. So the feeling of hot rain sluiced through him and he felt the warm wetness spill over in his hand, but as he came, he couldn't look away. In that velvet, cutting moment, Ezra's eyes scared him.

More than déjà vu, it's that rain-soaked afternoon all over again.

It's too late in the year for warm summer thundershowers; the clouds massing outside hold only the sharp stinging promise of ice. The apartment is warm and dry, the hall well-lit where Josiah is standing. But Ezra hasn't moved from in front of the vanity for a quarter of an hour, hasn't taken his eyes from the mirror, hasn't lost that disconcerting stare.

He doesn't even know why Ezra is here. He's long since accepted that after a bust where Ezra's been undercover, he won't see him outside of work for the better part of a week. They'll nod to each other in the office and make good-natured complaints about the paperwork, and he likes to think that Ezra smiles at him just a shade more honestly than at the others, a secret connection in the public setting. But that's it, and it's not worth dwelling on any more deeply than that. He doesn't want to believe that Ezra could show him the smile he used with the arms dealer they took down just a few hours agp.

He saw the surveillance video this time. Ezra convincing a budding weapons entrepreneur that he meant business. He saw said entrepreneur's demonstration of his goods. He saw Ezra crouch to examine the neat entry wound. But neither Josiah, nor any other member of Team 7, had seen the slightest reaction in Ezra's eyes. They were like glass.

He wonders now if Ezra can see both their reflections from where he's standing—if by some lucky angle of refracted light, they're looking each other in the eye. How easy this could be if they are. He wonders if Ezra is seeing anything at all, with that questing gaze turned inward, looking for the reflected in the reflection.

And he wants more than anything to take those few steps into the room with Ezra, to gently lead him away from the mirror. He has a dozen parables on his tongue, but how can he pretend to know Ezra tonight when Ezra's regarding his own reflection like a familiar stranger? A silent interrogation.

To tell the truth, he doesn't want to know what's going through Ezra's mind. Ezra is only supposed to be here on sunny days, on stolen weekend nights of old movies and homemade popcorn. Ezra is supposed to be the smile, the touch, the hot cry in the dark. He isn't supposed to be this real. Thunderstorms and cold cloudy evenings are complications that make Ezra stand there blindly, the mirror forcing them both to look at themselves.

Josiah kneads the muscles in his neck, feeling hungry, weary. He has paperwork to do, weapon discharge forms to complete, a bed waiting for him.

He has Ezra, pale and wide-eyed, staring silently at himself.

He shakes his head. Three impulsive steps and he's standing behind Ezra. Warmth. He fights the dark urge to hit him just to get a reaction; to break the mirror just to shut it up. He wants to soothe away Ezra's hurt, tell him that everything will be all right, lie to him, but he can't bear to see that all-too-easy grin. Instead, he wraps an arm around Ezra's chest, feeling him inhale, exhale. His other hand moves to Ezra's face, brushing against a stubbled cheek, and cups his chin. Firmly, he tilts his hand and Ezra's head with it. Their red-rimmed eyes meet in the mirror. Ezra blinks. Too tired. Josiah holds Ezra's gaze. Steady. For a moment, he thinks he sees something flicker in the flatness of Ezra's eyes, something dark, cringing chained in a corner. Something frightened.

Ezra closes his eyes and leans back a fraction enough. Josiah watches the mirror. Image. Imaginary. Through the looking glass and back again, the two of them almost looked like lovers, like men who know each other, like men who know themselves. An unpleasant little smile meets Josiah's eyes.

Just a reflection.


End file.
